


A to Z: In Sickness and Health

by Belle_Evans



Series: A to Z: In Sickness and Health [1]
Category: due South
Genre: Angst, M/M, Marriage, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 18:25:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belle_Evans/pseuds/Belle_Evans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>AU wherein same gender marriage is legal in the entire U.S.</p><p>Updated Note: This was originally written in 2005 , with the underlying idea that same sex marriage was legal in all fifty states. Of course now it is more legal than it was and the U.S. Supreme Court activity this week put the fic on my mind.  Originally posted to the DS Archive.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. A to Z: In Sickness and Health

**Author's Note:**

> AU wherein same gender marriage is legal in the entire U.S.
> 
> Updated Note: This was originally written in 2005 , with the underlying idea that same sex marriage was legal in all fifty states. Of course now it is more legal than it was and the U.S. Supreme Court activity this week put the fic on my mind. Originally posted to the DS Archive.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fraser/Vecchio marriage is in trouble.

  
What do you call a person that can't get either a woman or a man to spend the rest of their lives with them. A person who's been divorced twice? What kind of schmuck does that make me? Will it make me?  
  
I'm standing here at the window, in our kitchen, that overlooks the tree "cabin" my husband built for our nieces and nephews. It was a few months after we moved into this house. When we had time. I don't know what I'm gonna tell the kids. Maybe my sisters can sort of set them up for me before I have to explain why they can't come to their Uncles' to play anymore.  
  
I'm supposed to be packing. That's what you do when you're separating and taking the El straight to divorce court. Although these days they try and detour you through at least one mandatory counseling session and arbitration. This is the day we agreed on. All neatly arranged. When you've got the juice that I've got now, and you say I'm working in the field, all anyone ever does is nod. It's not like I'm not wired for purpose. I've got both of the cells. The one that's exclusively for calls from my deep cover team members. Although it's a sleek black extremely slim number, so as not to ruin the line of my suits, it is essentially the "red" phone. They can reach me any hour of the day or night.  
  
When it rings, I know that an assignment has gone wrong and one of my people is in deep shit. It rarely rings 'cause I do my best to prepare them from the jump, but sometimes things happen. I understand that better than anyone, that's why when they were looking for someone to head an elite undercover unit, I got the call. My people respect me because they know I've been there. And I can prepare them like very few people can. I know the fear, the sleepless nights, the cold sweats, the absolute conviction that you've gone crazy.  
  
The second phone is for the logistics and administrative side of what I do now. And of course my PDA and pagers for back-up. So today "in the field" means my husband and I have agreed that this particular day is the best day for me to pack my crap and move out of the house I've shared with him for five years. Afterall, I'm the one with family in town. I could stay with them. And what hell that would be. The explanations. The blaming. Because my husband is perfect so this must be my fault. Not ready for that. My unit's got a safe-house. I might crash there. Until I can get my shit together. Figuratively. Not doing so well with the literal right now. I even forgot to bring boxes.  
  
He meticulously plans and prepares for just about every scenario. He should have known I would forget boxes. He should have known that I wouldn't be able to do this without him.  
  
End of Part One 

  
 

 

    



	2. A to Z: In Sickness and Health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray remembers who he is and reminds his husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though Kowalski plays his part, there was no Hand of Franklin.

I'm not the only one whose career got a spin in a new direction. My husband is still at the Consulate, but now he's on kind of a Canadian/US anti-terrorism detail. It's great for him 'cause it's got teeth. Like me, he splits his time between administrative headaches and hard core field work. It lets him be everything that he is capable of being professionally. I am so proud of him. And he gets to go North semi-regularly on Canada's dime.

He's talking to someone on his headset, his back to me, but I know that he's heard me. Knows that I'm here. I've got the "red" phone and he's got the bat hearing. He probably heard me as soon as I pulled out of our driveway. His suit jacket is hung up on the valet near the wall behind his desk and he's in shirt sleeves. The beautifully tailored midnight blue pants that drape his body so perfectly, I bought for him. He knows nothing about power dressing. His current responsibilities require lots of meetings with mooks in suits. FBI mooks, CIA mooks, Canadian Intelligence mooks. I've tried to teach him that a good suit can be a tool, a weapon, but I can only put up with so much befuddled Mountie. And "Ray we are all working toward a common good, what does the designer of my suit matter." I buy all of his ties, his dress shirts and his suits. My tailor makes them work. These days, he pretty much only gets into uniform for ceremonial things, funerals etc...

Finally, my husband disconnects the call and turns to look at me. Maybe he does understand power dressing. The full effect of this slightly undone Mountie always leaves me a little stunned. Makes me putty in his hands. The tie is gone, shirt is unbuttoned. He's rolling up his sleeves as he watches me. This is how he looked the night he told me he thought it would be a good idea for us to separate, then divorce. This is how he looked the night I proposed to him. A couple of months after I was back from Vegas, Benny came to the house. It was probably two or three in the morning. I'd mentioned to him that I hadn't been sleeping all that well. I spent a lot of the small hours of the morning staring into space and that morning was no different. I was in the living room when I heard a soft knock on the front door. At the threshold he stood, with Dief, Stetson in hand. For a minute, he looked startled, like maybe my house was not where he had intended to be. But then he smiled at me. I grinned at him and stepped back to let him inside.

We sat side by side on the couch. Not close enough to touch. Not even close enough to feel each other's body heat. He stared at the floor and kept fiddling with the brim of his hat. I waited because now it was my turn to wait for him. Finally, he set the Stetson carefully on the coffee table. I was scared to death. I'd been dreading this moment now that his reason for coming to Chicago was void. I'd been waiting. And it dawned on me then this was one of the reasons I hadn't been able to sleep. I'd been waiting for him to tell me he was going home for good. And now finally here he was.

I stole a quick glance at Dief. Dief grinned at me and then I realized that it might not be as bad as I thought. Dief wouldn't grin, if he was about to be wrenched far far away from Ma's cooking. And all the take-out joints he could walk to. Just as I glanced again at Benny, he cleared his throat and met my eyes.

It's as easy as breathing to get lost in the deep blue sea of his eyes. And as I was trying not to drown, he whispered, "Don't ever leave me like that again." For one irrational moment I thought, "the Mountie didn't say please". And then he did, in a voice so raw, so ragged all I could do was tug him into my arms, hold him, stroke my fingers through his hair. And whisper to him, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. Baby, I'm so sorry."

Four months later, I threw a huge family dinner to celebrate Maria's and Tony's wedding anniversary. It wasn't one of the big anniversaries, but it was really the first good excuse to have a party since I got back. That night marked a total of six months after Vegas. That's how I thought of time then b.v. and a.v. So six months a.v., I wanted to see everyone dressed up and having a good time. In Vegas, we dressed up, had parties at which we planned mayhem and bloodshed. I was still trying to get that stench off of me. I rented the banquet room in a grand hotel, had the meal catered by this restaurant that only just gives my Ma a run for her money.

Benny's main responsibility was to sort of keep the nieces and nephews corralled. It's ironic, even though he tried not to show it, then, he was a little afraid of them. But they adored him. They still do. Obviously, in the beginning, they were fascinated with Dief, but now it's all Benny. Maybe it's his interest in just about everything. His stories about almost everything. No matter how trivial. And kids can be fascinated by the most inconsequential things. Benny is right there along with them. He takes the time to explain or help them find the answer. No matter how often they ask why this and why that he takes the time. Then, as now, my nephew thinks there is nothing funnier on this planet than asking Benny to pull his finger. After the first couple of times he asked, Benny confessed to me that he just didn't understand what it meant. After I explained, he subjected Tony, Jr. to a long winded explanation about how the pulling of appendages had no bearing on flatulence. The kid remained and remains undaunted. Benny is hands down his favorite uncle.

That night, as the party mellowed, Benny sat across the table from me. Tie gone, first three shirt buttons undone, sleeves rolled up. He'd been crawling around on the floor earlier that night playing horsy. But right then, slightly undone, he looked amazing. At first I thought it was because that side of Benny, the unbuttoned, the uninhibited, the lover was still undiscovered. We were taking things slowly and though we'd fooled around some, we hadn't really been together yet. But after five years of marriage, there isn't a part of his body that hasn't been marked by me and yet....Maybe it was the hint, the promise of something special to come. He looked at me sleepily over the dark curls of my niece's head. She slept soundly in his lap, her little hand tangled in the front of his shirt. I opened my mouth to say to him 'lemme take her upstairs and put her to bed'. I'd rented rooms so that no one would have to drive home. Ma was already up there.

What actually came out of my mouth was, "Marry me." He startled slightly and lines of confusion creased his forehead. He cocked his head as if trying to figure out whether or not he heard me correctly. I was trying to figure out if I heard me correctly. I got up quick, walked around to the other side of the table and took the empty chair beside him. I thought about getting down on my knee, but it was Tony's and Maria's night and I didn't want to spook Benny. I leaned in close to him, clasped his hand in mine and whispered in his ear, "Marry me, baby." The heat of his blush warmed my face as he nodded yes.

***********

"Ray, I trust that you have finished at the house." He says to me as he holds out his hand for my set of house keys. And in that instant I hate him. For a moment, I forget that staring out of the kitchen window for hours, not packing anything in the boxes my husband didn't leave for me, has brought me a kind of clear-headedness. My literal and figurative shit are walking hand in hand.

"I'm not gonna let you A to Z me Benny." It's been a week since I've seen him. He looks exhausted. I can see that clearly. I don't think his colleagues would notice. I also see just a hint of uncertainty flicker in his eye. I already know I'm on the right track, but that brief wavering, that tell, confirms it. God Bless him, he is persistent.

"Well of course Ray, I'm amenable to you holding onto the keys for a few days in case you have forgotten anything." "That won't be necessary", I say as I step further into my husband's office and close the door behind me. And as if this is not the single most important conversation of our lives, I casually fold myself into the chair opposite his desk. Our wedding picture is sitting right where it's always been.

It would be further confirmation if that's what I needed now. But it isn't. He sees me looking at the picture. "Ray -," but I hold up my hand to stop him.

"It breaks down like this," I say. "I haven't forgotten to take anything with me. Because I'm not takin' anything with me. I'm not going anywhere Benny."

End of Part 2


	3. A to Z: In Sickness and Health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kowalski's involvement becomes a little clearer. A compromise is reached.

Yeah, it's sick to take pleasure in someone else's discomfort but he's my husband so I can. His hands are clasped so tightly on top of his desk blotter that they're completely bloodless. I know he's trying to keep from rubbing his eyebrow. His most obvious tell.

Since he's been on this detail he's worked to sort of do the eyebrow rub less. He knows it gives away more than he would like in certain situations. And although this job doesn't really require that he do undercover per se, it does require him to play some things very close to the vest.

He seems mesmerized by his clasped hands and he doesn't look at me when he murmurs,

"So you have elected to make an entirely fresh start."

Ah, I'm dealing with the obtuse Benny. "Baby, I'm so sorry."

His head snaps up instantly. Yeah, I apologized the way I did that night. The night he asked me not to ever leave him. I sure as hell have his full attention now.

"It's been a long time since we've been these two people." I say quietly

"Who are we but ourselves Ray?"

And he is right about that, except these selves, the people that have created this specific situation were buried five years ago. At least that's what I thought.

"I'm sorry that I didn't understand what was going on sooner," I tell him as I lean forward in the chair and lock him down with my eyes.

My hand covers his hands. It's the first skin to skin contact in a week and I work not to let it distract me. If this goes the way I hope it does, there will more, much more skin to skin. I have to be patient. "I'm sorry that I haven't been who you needed me to be these last few months."

I can feel the tightening clasp of his hands.

"If not yourself, then who should you have been," he manages to get out. And it seems like it's snarky but really it's just the shadow of snark.

"I should have been the guy that bitches and moans. I should have been the guy that says no when you pull and A to Z stunt baby. And this has all the markings of a classic. The drill baby - we start at 'A' with the basic facts of a situation, then the next thing I know we're at 'Z' either jumping off a roof or going through the plate glass because you say so. When your brain starts working like that I know you can't help it. And I was right there beside you, because I had your back, because I loved you. But sometimes Benny maybe I shoulda made you take the stairs, maybe gone through the door instead. You got us up here on the fuckin' edge of a roof and I'm not jumping off with you. Not this time. This time you need me to say no. "

I give him a smile that he doesn't return. Instead he drops those blues to my hand over his.

I reach for his chin and lift his face so that I can see his eyes. Pain and confusion stare back at me.

"What the fuck are we doing on this roof Benny?"

I rarely swear, husbandly influence and all that. 'Cept when I'm really angry or really hurting. I wanted to play this cool but maybe it's not so bad if he sees a little of my hurt, a little of what he's done to me, to us.

"I have been corresponding with Stan Kowalkski."

I figured that there would be a coupla tangents wrapped around an Inuit story while we hashed this through. I didn't expect any of them to start with Stan Kowalski. Kowalski's a good guy, good cop. I respect the hell out of him. He kept every single person that I love safe. I even talked to him about being a part of the undercover unit. I thought he'd be a good addition, because with the two of us you get the ying and yang of selling an undercover, of selling an identity. And two definitely different approaches. He said he'd think it over but then he got shot. And it was bad. Instead of a golden bullet it was more like a silver bullet. Took him down hard, coupla two or three surgeries on his leg, bad time with physical therapy. That's one of the reasons he moved with his parent back to Arizona. The Chicago winters started to really kick his ass.

I got no beef with Kowalski.... I don't think he'd be trying to trash our marriage. He stood up for Benny at the wedding. From what I understand he's one of those nutso romantic types, stayed hung up on his ex-wife long after she kicked him to the curb. Yeah, Benny and I have some problems, but ...

I try to get my mind settled so that I can concentrate on what Kowalski has to do with my marriage. I guess Benny's waiting for me to get it together too cause he's just staring at me. I nod for him to go on. "Stan and I have written to each other regularly since he moved to Arizona. For the most part, I receive a letter from him every two weeks. As you are aware, lately, my duties have not allowed for such regular correspondence."

I guess he reads the question in my eyes cause then he adds. "Stan would send his letters to me care of the Consulate. And I would usually compose my letters to him here where it is easier to gather my thoughts and post them from here as well. I had not received a letter from him in eight weeks, then I received a telephone call from his mother. In those same eight weeks, he quit going to physical therapy and began to spend more time in his apartment then apparently was his habit. I have made repeated attempts to contact him by phone to no avail. It seems quite obvious that he is in some kind of trouble and I need to go to Arizona to ascertain the nature of that trouble."

"You're divorcing me because you're going to Arizona to check on Kowalski?"

"Ray - "

"No wait Benny. You're going to Arizona. And this made you think that you had to file for divorce?"

"Yes, Ray."

It flickers in my mind that my husband has gone insane.

"Why?"

"I do not know how long I will be gone."

He's insane and scared. "When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow night."

I open my mouth to say many things. From "you crazy son of a bitch" to " goddammit Benny" to "Baby this makes no sense", but like the night I proposed to him something completely unplanned pops out. Maybe I should have asked him to button his collar and roll down his sleeves.

"I'll go with you."

His clasped hands come apart under mine. "I beg your pardon."

"I'm going with you."

"Ray, I couldn't ask you to - "

"Benny if you really want to break our marriage vows, if you really want to make me the worst Catholic on the planet, then I'll go back to the house and move out my things and I'll sign the papers. Or you can give me your itinerary so that I can book myself on your flight and unbook us out of whatever dive hotel you've chosen. What's it gonna be Benny?"

******************

He lays naked beside me, on his stomach and I lean over and press a kiss to the small of his back just above the cleft of his ass. He doesn't move. And that's good cause I need the quiet, the stillness to walk through this.

There was so much going on in the office earlier, that I let some of the hinkier things go, but I'm not stupid. Doing what I do for all these years you listen to what people don't say. Yeah, the divorce is tabled but something is still wrong, maybe really wrong.

We're cops. I can't believe that he thought I wouldn't understand about partners. Understand that he'd wanna get Kowalski's back. Maybe it was the timing that made him think I'd take it wrong. Before he presented me with papers, we'd been like ships passing in the night. I'd get home in the small hours of the morning, stumbling into bed just as he was getting up or when I got up he'd already be sleeping or vice versa. Things had been going that way long enough for us to have a brief conversation about having to talk. I love him, I love what I do. He loves me, he loves what he does. The love of work has been the greatest love for these last months.

And I guess maybe if he'd said to me he was going off to Arizona to see Kowalski when he couldn't spare two hours to have dinner with me, I admit I might have gone ballistic. I might have considered it a de facto separation, a divorce. I'll never be able to say.

He reached into his desk and handed me two pieces of paper stapled together. The itinerary. When I reached for it, my hand trembled so badly that Benny just dropped the travel plans on the desk grabbed my hand. We sat like that for maybe twenty minutes. Then I picked up the pages, shoved them inside my suit jacket and growled at him. "Let's go."

We rode home in silence. I was on him before we got out of the garage. Sex on the hood of the car isn't my thing. It's not his either. But I needed .... I guess that's it. I needed. Needed to get some of my own back, needed to reclaim him. Needed to feel that soft warm skin under the palms of my hand, needed to be inside him to make the talk in the office real. With only saliva to ease the way I took Benny with his silent assent.

Afterwards, while he warmed up some food that Ma left for us in the freezer, I got on the phone and spent the next hour or so making arrangements for our travel and my personal days. Benny's leave request had been approved the same day he presented me with divorce papers.

We held hands while we ate. Something we haven't done since the first year we were married. And afterwards instead of loading the dishwasher like we were supposed to be doing we just stood in the center of the kitchen holding each other. And he kept whispering in my ear, like a mantra, "I didn't mean to hurt you Ray." Finally after being like that for I don't know how long, I took his hand and led him into our bedroom so that I could make love to him the right way. One of my favorite things to do is undress the Mountie, and my hands itched with anticipation. And I took my time with it while he shivered in front of me.

I stretched my naked body out over his and pinned his arms above his head. His eyes held just the tiniest trace of fear. Had I not known him so well, I might have missed it. Might not have understood where it was coming from "It's okay, caro," I said as I pressed my lips against his forehead. "I'm not mad. I'm not mad. I'm okay." I pressed my lips to his and he tried to move his arm so that he could touch me but I held it firmly in place above his head. "No, baby, lemme do this." And he did. And I turned him out. No wonder he's sleeping so soundly. Maybe that'll give him a little something extra to think about the next time he wants to divorce me. Oh God. The next time. Oh shit. And my brain immediately locks down on those thought immediately.

Maybe we'll get out there and find that Stan's just sowing some wild oats. His injury notwithstanding, he's a fairly healthy man. I think all the important parts still work and he's attractive in a kind of down and dirty way . Some women really go for that kinda thing. So maybe he's found some babe to hit the sheets with. That would go a long way to explaining his incommunicado status.

And then, once Benny's satisfied that Kowalski's fine, maybe he and I can turn these days away from our regular lives into a second honeymoon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going to see Kowalski may not have been the best idea.

"Goddammit, when the shit hits the fan it really hits the fan." Benny says nothing. Just sits across from me quietly and holds my hand. He traces a pattern across my palm and over my wedding band with his forefinger. He looks up at me and his face in some way reflects my own anxiety, but he gives me a sweet smile and says "It'll be alright Ray."

My husband doesn't lie, but he has no way of knowing how this new wrinkle will iron out. I put down the glass of wine that I'm almost clutching. Quickly, I slip my hand around his neck, into his hair and pull him a little forward, across the top of the table. It's meant to be a quick, thank you, I love you kiss but immediately it starts to turn to something more intense.

Something that we should be doing in our bedroom, not in an airport lounge. And I'm not sure which one of us is doing it, which one of us kicked it up that notch. But...I can't do this here. I slip my hand from around his neck and back to the stem of my glass.

We don't do this. Public displays of affection. Part of it is the cop thing, part of it generational. I guess, some indoctrination is really hard to overcome. In the same way that illegality doesn't prevent people from committing crimes, this legality doesn't prevent people from displaying and sometimes exercising their bigotry.

And I'd just as soon not spend my time busting heads when I've got a niece or nephew by the hand.

Same sex marriage only became legal the year before we got married, so it's not like either of us grew up thinking that we could be like a married het couple. When we use to take the nieces and nephews to the Navy Pier, I'd see guys younger than Benny and me, in their twenties sometimes even younger than that, holding hands, making out likes it's nothing.

Sometimes they were just in each other's space in a way that makes their relationship obvious. Usually Benny and I would have a child between us, him holding one hand and me holding the other. And so in it's own way I guess it was obvious, but I can count the number of times I've kissed him or held his hand in public on one hand. And that would include our wedding day and here in this lounge.

Apparently I'm working on a triple play of things I don't do in public. The public displays of affection obviously, the profanity which he politely ignored, and the public drinking. Truth is I don't drink, not really, public or otherwise. And that's not Benny's influence. There was a time in the not so distant past that I thought if I started I would never be able to stop myself.

I'm so angry, so frustrated right now that I don't know what to do with myself. The wine was supposed to take the edge off. I don't think it's working.

I'm not going to Arizona with Benny. We will be on the same flight initially, but then I'm booked on a connecting flight to Los Angeles.

The 'red' phone rang an hour before we were supposed to leave for the airport. And it was bad. A joint operation in Southern California has gone seriously wrong. I've got a civilian, some teenage baseball phenom that may not walk again, in the hospital. And the involved officer, my officer, a twenty-something wants to eat her gun. I got a couple of people sitting on her at the safe house. I got a local counterpart at the hospital keeping me updated on the kid's condition until I can see what's what for myself. Our mark's in jail on attempted murder charges for what he did to the kid, almost beat him to death with a baseball bat. He'll probably want to plead, so we can get what we were after - the meth lab and the guns he was running through the high school. It's messy.

"I love you." My eyes flick to Benny's and he's got that sweet smile working overtime. The anxiety has been replaced with the tiniest trace of sadness.

"I love you too." And I fight down the urge to kiss him again. "This is not a good time for us to be separated, Benny."

"It will be alright Ray."

"Okay." I take another sip of my wine. It goes down like water.

**************

Two days. I was in Los Angeles two days. The boy's still in a coma, but he's reacting to stimuli. The thinking now is that after extensive rehab he'll be able to walk again. I saw his stats. He was something else. I stopped at the hospital chapel and said a prayer for him.

My officer, that's still a mess. I took her statement, then after I shut off my mini recorder, and the other investigators left the room, I waited for her to say the things between the lines. Like how she let the ball player fall in love with her. Like how she might have feelings deeper than friendship for the boy. I think that she is only just now getting how deep those feelings might be. How that might have contributed to how things went down. I understand what she's going through - wrong feelings, for the wrong person, at the wrong time. Fortunately with Benny and me no one ended up battered or dead before we got our shit together. Sure I sort of have one less sibling now but that's a whole other story.

Her cover, teenage shooting victim looking for some protection, is still intact and we shouldn't have any trouble getting her out of California. That small amount of positive news means, I have some breathing room to be with my husband, at least for a day maybe two. Hopefully, by now Benny's already found out what's eatin' Kowalski or better yet who Kowalski's eatin' and he can come with me to Los Angeles if I have to go back. Or we can go home. I talked to him when I first got to L.A. and he'd just checked into the hotel. After he finished talking to me, he was going to see Stan. I could hear nervousness in his voice.

After that I was hip deep in damage control and have only had a chance to leave a couple of voice mail messages. He's sent a couple back to me that essentially mirrored mine with 'I love you, I'm fine.' Except...Christ. He didn't sound fine. The nervousness seemed to have morphed into something I couldn't put my finger on. I listened to the voicemail a coupla times. Sure I wanted to hear his voice, but I also was trying to pin down that thing I didn't recognize.

Leave it to Kowalski. He can't even have an uncomplicated tumble. I keep a low profile in official circles, so I mostly know Stella Kowalski by reputation. And from what I heard she was completely out of Kowalski's league. I guess you can't blame a guy for aiming high. Unless of course it gets my husband into trouble. I'll kill Kowalski if he's got Benny missed up in something dangerous.

Our suite is dark. Thank God, I changed our reservation. I think he had us booked into some kind of rent by the hour joint. I was supposed to take an earlier flight but since I stopped by the hospital to check on the kid I'm late. I move through the living room into the bedroom. Benny is sound asleep. Naked. Usually it's a white t-shirt and boxers, but not tonight. And that's all it takes for me to shake off the tiredness and the stress of the last two days. I quickly slip out of my linen jacket, loafers and quietly pad to his side.

"Hey Beautiful," I whisper as I lean over to kiss him slow and deep, the way I wanted to in the airport. My hand slides down his stomach and under the sheet. He stirs. "I couldn't stay awake."

"It's okay." My hand strokes between his legs.

"Ray." He pulls his mouth away and his hand slides under the sheet to cover mine. He stills the movement of my hand. That's not exactly the welcome I was expecting.

"Benny?" I stop but I don't move my hand. The fingers of my other hand run through his hair. "Tired?" I ask him. My eyes have adjusted a little to the dark, but I still can't really make out his features. I can hear the change in his breathing. It sounds like he's crying. I reach for the lamp on the nightstand and he grabs my wrist. Then he brings my other hand from between his legs, puts my hands together and kisses them.

"I'm sorry Ray." And he still sounds like he's crying so I free my hand and brush each of his cheeks but they're dry. Maybe it's jetlag freaking me out.

"Ray?"

"It's okay, baby." I kiss him again and get up. He grasps my hand. "Where are you going?"

"I'm just gonna take a quick shower, I'm still a little grimy from the plane."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay, I'll be right back."

I'm a little aroused, but it doesn't take me too long to take care of business. When I get back into the bedroom, Benny has drifted off to sleep again. I lay down beside him not bothering to pull the sheet over me.

I wrap my arms around him and mold my naked body to his. The feeling that something is really wrong comes back with a vengeance. When I wake up in the morning, Benny is already gone and there is a note. He's gone off somewhere with Kowalski and I can reach him on his cell. My cell starts ringing not long after that, and I'm on the phone until almost one in the afternoon.

I check my voicemail and Benny has left me another message. He and Kowalski are on the road. They're going to stop somewhere along the way to have lunch, then he's having dinner with the Kowalski's. So it looks like room service for me but that's okay I'm still up to my ears in Los Angeles. And tonight when Benny gets back from dinner, we'll get down to brass tacks about what's going on with Stanley Kowalski.

Except when he gets back at sometime roughly around one in the morning I'm sort of not in any condition to hear about Kowalski. I had room service send up a bottle of wine with my dinner. I've had more than I intended. When Benny finally walks through the door, I'm standing in the middle of the living room seriously considering redecorating the walls with the contents of my glass.

I don't know if he reads the intent but he takes the glass out of my hand and sets it on the coffee table. I let him and then I wait. I wait for him to tell me why we're in Arizona. How much longer we're gonna be in Arizona. How much longer he's gonna be in Arizona 'cause I don't have to be here. But he doesn't say anything, he wraps his arms around me and hugs me tightly.

"We have to talk Benny."

"I know Ray, tomorrow. We will talk tomorrow." And he's shaking and his voice sounds like it did last night. Like he's crying. But I can see his face clearly now, like I couldn't last night. Although there are no tears, he looks like he's been through hell. There are tight lines around his mouth and eyes. "What the hell is going on?"

"Tomorrow, Ray please." If I was more together I would push the issue, but I'm too tired, too overwhelmed. And what difference could another day make.

"Okay, Benny tomorrow."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all hits the fan. Kowalski has an 'accident'.

We both spend the night tossing and turning. Benny tosses and turns but somehow manages not to wake up. Force of will I guess. I toss and turn without sleeping and come to a decision. As quietly as I can, I get up and get dressed. I scribble a quick note to my husband about an errand and put it on the night table.

At the front desk, I ask the clerk to get me driving directions to the Kowalski's. It's about four in the morning or so and sure I could wait a couple of hours for Benny to wake up and give me the low down. But Benny will do what he still does. He'll put the best possible spin on whatever Kowalski's mixed up in. I want to get a handle on what's going down without the benefit of Benny colored lenses.

The clerk gave me really good directions. I get to Kowalski's place pretty quickly. The house is in the center of a cul de sac with a detached garage and what looks like an apartment built above it. And that makes sense, it's bad enough to be pushing forty and living with your parents. You might as well try for some kind of boundaries. I park on the street and try not to look too conspicuous sitting in my car. I've got all of my credentials with me in case I get any kind of static from the neighbors or their security patrol company. It's not quite a gated community, but all the houses look the same on the outside and they all have the same red, white and blue security signs in their front yards.

There aren't any lights on in the main house and none in the apartment or the garage. It occurs to me that Stan might not be home. It also dawns on me that I'm not above going to his parents to see if I can get a read on his situation. For now, I'll just sit tight and keep the place under surveillance. I don't really have much of a plan. It all sort of depends on what kind of reception I get from him.

I only have to wait about forty-five minutes before a light comes on in the apartment. I slouch a little lower behind the steering wheel of the rental and wait.

There are maybe ten or fifteen steps that lead from the apartment down to the ground and it seems to take Stan twenty minutes to get down them. He looks like he's dressed to go out. As he makes his way to the front of the garage, his limp seems much more pronounced then the last time I saw him. I think that was maybe six months after the wedding. He bends awkwardly for the handle of the garage door to lift it up. He's having a lot of trouble trying to balance on the one good leg. I'm almost half way out of the car to give him a hand when he finally manages to raise the door enough to drag himself inside. Once his body clears the door, it slides slowly quietly closed again.

And I wait. If he comes out and goes back to the apartment then I'll go up and see how it's hangin'. If he drives out, I'll just follow him and see if there are other players in this game that I need to know about.

I hear what sounds like the low rumble of a car starting. I roll down my window a little and the sound carries in the silence. Stan's gonna be on the move and I'm gonna be right with him. I slide my key in the ignition and wait. And wait. Kowalski's kind of a gear head. If he's still got the GTO, could be he's just up doing a little early, very early morning tinkering. I wait.

About a half an hour passes and I figure he's in the garage for the long haul>The sun's coming up and it's already hot. I slip out of my car and jog across the street. It's not the smartest thing in the world to sneak up on a cop, even a lamed retired one, but I don't want to wake up the neighborhood. I don't think he's gonna hear a knock over the engine so I reach for the door handle and lift. It's not locked and comes right up.

One of the good things about being well-trained is that in an emergency that training kicks in automatically. Even before it really registers that there is hose taped to the window that's coming from the back of the car, I'm shrugging off my jacket, wrapping it around my arm and busting the GTO's passenger window. I scramble to unlock the door and yank it open. Kowalski's head lolls on the back of the driver's seat. I feel for a pulse. It's thready. I grab the key out of the ignition, roll down his window. The hose that was wedged there falls on the floor. I unclip my cell from my waistband and dial 911.

"You stupid son of a bitch. Don't do this." I yell at Kowalski as soon as I'm done with the dispatch operator, but of course he doesn't move. I start to plant my knee more firmly on the seat to get some leverage and "Ow shit." Something digs into my knee. I pause for just a second to see what it is and I see three identical envelopes on the seat. I grab them, shove them in my back pocket and reach for Kowalski. It is surprisingly easy to get him out of the car. He is almost feather light. I carry him a few feet from the open garage door and lay him down on the concrete. Shaking the glass out of my jacket, I bunch it up and cushion his head. I can hear the wail of the ambulance in the distance. "Stanley Raymond Kowalski!" Now I don't care so much about waking the neighborhood. I shout his name some more, but he's still down. I try another approach, I bend low to his ear, "Don't you fuckin' do this to Benny man." Nothing. At least he's breathing.

The things emergency training don't cover, instinct does. I have just enough time before the ambulance turns onto the Kowalski's street to run back into the garage and un-tape the hose from the tail pipe and kick it under a workbench. No use anyone jumping to conclusions. Let Kowalski tell us what happened.

The paramedics are running towards Stan. I tell them what I know. By now a few of the neighbors have gathered in front of their own homes. The lights have gone on in the main house so I go to the front door to speak to his father as he steps onto the threshold. He's already fully dressed.

"Mr. Kowalski, I don't know if you remember me, I'm Raymond Vecchio." I stifle the overwhelming urge to say the real Raymond Vecchio as I extend my hand. "Stanley has had an...something has happened with Stanley and the car. He's unconscious but he's is still breathing."

His father gives me a look that makes me wonder if this is the first time the paramedics have been to this house for an "accident." He brushes past me and goes to see about his son. His wife comes to the door in her robe. I see almost the same look on her face. No surprise, only a certain resignation. "He's still breathing." I say lamely.

"I better get dressed." She steps back into the house and I turn and see they've got Stan ready for transport His father clutches his hand and bends low to kiss his son on the forehead. He says something to the paramedic then climbs in the back as they load Stan in.

"Which hospital?" I shout.

"Tempe Memorial." The paramedic calls back.

I step into the Kowalski home to wait for Stan's mom. I call the hotel and ask the concierge to arrange a cab to take Benny to the hospital. Then I have them connect me to our room. God how am I gonna tell Benny?

***************************************

The cab gets him to the hospital just a few minutes after I've escorted Mrs. Kowalski to her husband's side in a semi-private family waiting area . He was pale. Looked very old. He slipped his arms around his wife and pulled her into a silent embrace. I didn't find out exactly what Stan's condition is. I don't think I want to know. I wanted to intercept Benny as soon as he got here. I meet him at the door of the cab.

"What's happened Ray? Why are we at the hospital."

I didn't tell him anything on the phone, just that I had the car and I was sending a cab to bring him to meet me. "It's Stan." He tenses so hard that I flinch.

I wrap my arms around him. "Stan tried to kill himself this morning. When the paramedics brought him to the hospital, he was unconscious."

My husband pulls out of my arms and looks at me for an eternity without speaking. I see a flicker of the same look that the Kowalski's had earlier mixed with something darker. I wonder if this is what Benny was going to tell me this morning. I brush my finger across his cheek, "I'm so sorry, baby"

We join the Kowalski's in the waiting area. Benny hugs Stan's mom and shakes his father's hand. While he is in the middle of greeting them, an emergency room doctor shambles towards us. He stops and looks at the Kowalski's straight on. It never gets easier giving people bad news. Everyone in our little group tenses.

"I'm sorry," he begins. Mrs. Kowalski starts to buckle beside me. Her husband and I reach for her at the same time. Just as I turn more towards her, I see a quick flash of color out of the side of my eye and I hear a low keening.

A lot is going on suddenly. Mr. Kowalski takes his wife's arm from me and walks her to a chair. I turn around to say something to Benny and he's not standing beside me anymore. And that keening is a little louder. I look down in the direction of the noise and there's my husband. On his hands and knees rocking back and forth on the floor. That sound is coming from Benny. I drop to one knee beside him and put my hand on his shoulder. "Benny. Come on Benny." I try to help him stand and he resists. "Caro, please..." Then the doctor is beside me. And Benny doesn't even seem to notice. "Are you and he together?"

"He's my husband."

"What's his name.?" The doctor is busy taking Benny's pulse.

"Benton Fraser. I'm Ray, Ray Vecchio."

"Mr. Vecchio is your husband allergic to any medications, is he currently taking any medication." Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the doctor motioning to someone.

"No," I whisper as I stare at my husband. "Baby it's gonna be okay.

"Mr. Fraser, I'm Doctor Williams can you tell me what's wrong?" It's like speaking to a wall. A wailing wall.

"We may need to sedate him." A syringe appears out of nowhere. He's got a syringe in his hand.

"No, he'll be fine. It's just....caro."

"I'm going to give him 50 mg of diazepam. This will smooth out the edge of the shock so that you can take him home."

I nod reluctantly and he sticks my husband. It has the opposite effect. Benny gets more agitated. In the end, it takes me, and a couple of orderlies to restrain him. The doctor injects enough juice into Benny to do more than smooth the edges. It puts him down. Out.

*********************************************

One of the 'good things' about being on the outs with someone is that when you call them they immediately know it's bad news. You don't have to waste time leading up to it or trying to figure out how to lead up to it. You can cut right to the chase.

"Hello."

"Hello, Francesca." There is a moment of her simply breathing into the phone.

"Is it Ma?"

I wince a little. Despite what's happened between us, I'd like to think that if something happened to Ma, I'd have the decency to tell her face to face. We are still blood, and though that hasn't counted for as much as it should have in the last five years, it should count for something. I need it to count for something now.

"It's not Ma. Benny and I are in Arizona. Stan Kowalski had an accident. He's gone, Francesca." And there's the breathing into the phone again, a little more labored with a little bit of a hitch but she seems to be holding it together.

"Does Ma know?" she whispers into the phone.

"No, not yet. You're the first person I called."

"Really?"

"Really. I need you to tell Ma....Dief, the family. I gotta call Welsh. And I'll need you to do a couple other things."

There's a pause. The moment of truth. Because my sister hasn't done me a favor since my wedding day when she showed up. I didn't think she would. And that was really more of a favor to Ma and maybe to Benny. I know they both talked to her before the ceremony. Maybe she'll look at it as a favor to Stan. I know that she loved him like a brother, like she use to love me.

"Okay Ray, what do you want me to do?"

"Thank you Francesca."

I call Welsh next. Somewhere along the way, we, me and Kowalski's parents have started calling it an accident, the accident. And so I say to Welsh...

"Kowalski's had an accident. He's gone." Like with my sister there is a pause and then Welsh says.

"I thought there was enough respect between us for you not to bullshit me Vecchio."

And then there is the breathing on my end and I tell him the truth. How we came to be in Arizona, not the divorce part, just Benny's concern. How I found Stan Kowalski, not the Benny collapse part. Welsh volunteers to do the rest of the Chicago notifications. I check in with Los Angeles. My officer is unwilling to leave while the boy is still in a coma. A bad idea. It hasn't been put to her as a direct order yet. I can hold off on that for at least a day. A day has made all the difference in the world.

The round of calls done for now, I slip back into my husband's room. There's twitching underneathhis skin, like he's still trying to fight the sedative. I smooth down his hair, run my hands over his cheeks, across his brow, trying to soothe him. Hoping that he can feel me through, the drug. Hoping that he knows we can get through this. Whatever this is. I lean lower and whisper in his ear. "I love you."

The chair in his room is surprisingly comfortable. I fold into it. Almost immediately, I feel the exhaustion. I can't give in to it yet. I want to be awake when Benny wakes up. And... I gotta listen to the tape. Jesus, the way he went down scared me. Nothing in Vegas, nothing in my life scared me like seeing Benny moaning and rocking on the floor. Not even him running after Victoria. Maybe cause in that situation I had some control.

There were mini-cassette tapes in each of the three envelopes I took from Kowalski's car. One for each of his parents and one for Benny. I've asked Kowalski's parents not to mention the tapes to Benny. I'll be the one to tell him, if I tell him.

**"Hey Ben,

If you're listening to this well...you know. Don't get all martyr like. I've been a file marked done for a long time.... I'm okay now. Vecchio will tell ya that it's not your fault. Listen to your old man, he's telling you the truth. I admit I don't think that I really understood why you were so twisted up over his being in Vegas, but he's a good guy. I don't think Stella woulda done what he did. Willin' to drop everything to come with ya to check on a friend. I know Vecchio and I got ties but still, Stella wouldna ....

I tell ya what she would do.. ....I ah God, Ben. I never told anybody this, wasn't going to tell anybody. I ...uh had an affair with Stella. I mean, I dunno what else ya call a week of empty, sheet scorching sex. Stop blushing Ben, you're a married man. Ya know what I'm talkin' about. At least I hope ya know what I'm talking about. And I know ya got that look on your face, but it wasn't like that or it was but I knew. I knew it wasn't about me, I knew that.

It was a little after I had been released, ya know when I was okay enough to go outpatient physical therapy. She was so scared when she came to see me. Jittery scared, she could barely keep still. This was the worst I'd ever been hurt in all the time I've known her. There was something desperate about it. Like even though she didn't want me, she still had to have that reassurance. Yeah, I know it was kinda like pity sex or maybe exactly like pity sex. But she was so beautiful laid out in my bed, it felt so good to have permission to touch her again. I knew when it was happening that it wasn't about us getting back together, I mean what was the Stella gonna do with my gimpy ass.

At first she tried to pretend that it was about me, but she couldn't, not really. I think she saw in my eyes that I knew that and so then she didn't even bother to try. For seven days she couldn't even pretend that she was in my bed for me, to give me something that I needed. It woulda been nice to have felt desired. I've known ya for so much less time and last night...God Ben last night. You're married, you're in love with your husband. But last night with you inside me -"** I almost fall out of the chair. What the hell. I rewind the tape because there is no way that I heard what I think I heard. Fuck. I can't seem to get a goddamned grip on the recorder. And I push the fast forward instead of the rewind. It takes two tries but I get the tape backed up. Taking a deep breath, I push play again.

**"...you're in love with your husband. But last night with you inside me it was better than any of the times with Stella. I know that it wasn't about pity. When I looked in your eyes I knew that it was about me. It's -"**

Goddammit. I am out of Benny's room like someone lit a fire under my ass. I've got to get out. I can't even, I have to take a minute in the hall outside of his room and try to get it together, because if I don't the next person I see is gonna wish they had stayed in bed this morning. I feel like I'm coming apart. My legs are so wobbly I can barely make my way down the hall.

*********************************

Maybe sometimes it's hard to tell if you're in a bad marriage until you get out. I never thought that my husband and I had one, but I'm a cop I have to look at the facts. He wanted to divorce me. I guilted him out of it. He cheated on me. He doesn't do casual sex. Here's a glove, catch a friggin' clue Vecchio. Only Benny wouldn't say friggin'. I've been sitting here in the hospital chapel for about an hour. Thinking, trying not to think, praying, trying not to crawl under this pew. I intended to stay married to Angie for the rest of my life. Hell I vowed to stay married to her for the rest of my life. I had a pretty good idea of who I was even then, but I didn't think that it had to be my entire life. I married Angie because I loved her and she was in love with me. I made a vow.

I know the Church has taken some hits in the last few years and yeah it deserves some of 'em, but when I was growing up the priests and the nuns, those were people I respected. Looked to as examples of how to keep a promise, how to do without something that was only a part of your life. They made a promise to God and I made a promise to my wife in front of God. I figured my deal was a lot easier than their's cause I could have sex. I intended to have a family with Angie and add my own clan to the Vecchio family tree. That's what I was raised to do. That's what I wanted to do.

And that was set in stone, until one night, I was on my way home from the precinct and I stopped at a liquor store to pick up a newspaper. A case I worked on had gotten a write-up. While I waited to pay, a guy walked into the store and I couldn't not look at him. He was wearing Armani. Thick jet black hair, smooth olive skin, solid build. I told myself that it was the suit I was looking at, it was the suit that caught my attention. As I kept watching him, I told myself that he looked like a perp from a wanted poster on the wall at the station. I kept telling myself that while I sat outside of the store waiting for him. I even wrote down his license plate number as I watched him get into a dark blue Mustang and pull away from the curb.

I tailed him right into a gay bar on Halstead. I had heard of this bar, but never been to it. I didn't work that beat. As a matter of fact until that night I had never even been in that neighborhood. I parked on the street and followed him into the bar. It was so crowded, it was easy for me to find cover. Thank God, I surveil people for a living or I probably would have gotten made. And thank God he was meeting someone there or I might have broken my promise to Angie. They got a table and I grabbed a stool at the bar, ordered a club soda. I positioned myself so that I could watch him without getting caught. My fingers suddenly itched to tangle in that dark hair of his, to run my finger over his lips, to hear him moan my name as I stroked him. And I can't even say what it was. Why that night of all the nights of my life I couldn't walk away from that part of myself. Maybe it was just time for me to come clean.

It's not like he was my type. I didn't even know what my type was. And it's not like he was a preview of what my type would be, 'cause he didn't look anything like Benny. I watched him and his partner for half an hour. When my pants started to tent, I knew I had to get out of there.

I just drove. Called my wife and told her that I was running late. I drove and drove around the city. Until I couldn't drive anymore and then I pulled over and cried. Because I had seen my future. Something had come undone in me in the bar. The next time *he*, whoever he was, might not be meeting anyone and I might not have the strength, the will to walk away.

And I didn't want to be that kind of man. A man who wasn't there for his family. Who had a secret life that his wife and kids didn't know about until he got busted by the cousin's sister's wife's friend who saw him some place he shouldn't have been. I asked Angie to take the next day off from work and I called in sick. We had a long, long talk. It broke my heart to break her heart. And even though that guy got something going in me, I didn't hit the bar scene after my divorce. The divorce hurt like hell because I never thought that would happen to me. I couldn't sleep, started threatening perps, beating on perps.... I didn't want one night stands when I was playing het and I didn't want them when I wasn't. I figured I'd be one of those guys that just stayed to himself, one of those uncles that everyone eventually understands what the deal is, but nobody says it out loud. And then on my vacations maybe I would go to West Hollywood or San Francisco or someplace like that so I could at least look without fear of running into anyone that knew me. And then after I retired from the force, after Ma was gone, maybe I would try to find someone to spend my time with.

And then hurricane Benton Fraser blew in from up north. And yeah, I was pissed off at him when we first met, but underneath a voice in my head said, "him." The urge to follow him was overwhelming. And I immediately knew what that meant to me. I covered with bluster and exasperation for as long as I could. There was a lot of confusion, denial I guess in the beginning. I'm glad that I had already given Angie her freedom, because I would have ruined her life to have him.

And so I made another promise, another vow and the difference is this time I don't know how to break it. I don't want to. I don't understand how he could.

B.V., before Vegas, one of the Feds offered some advice on how to swim with the sharks. She said think about the worse thing you've ever done, then imagine that instead of being ashamed of it. You were proud. That every time you thought of it, it made you smile instead of cringe. "That's the key to Langoustini. He's a man that does what he has to do and doesn't look back." That rung a bell in me. Gave me a friggin' Oprah moment. I had to own my crap. I didn't have to think very long or hard about the worst thing I'd ever done. I know I was a little nuts when it happened because I was proud of the decision. In the moment I was proud.

And how could a sane person be proud of shooting their best friend in the back....on purpose. I dropped Benny with precision so he couldn't leave me. I'm not proud of that now, but I'm not as ashamed as I probably should be. That's how I have it for my husband. And back then we hadn't even acknowledged that there were feelings. I was still doing exasperated and inconvenienced and he was doing stoic to the nth degree. We've never really talked about the stuff b.v.

When he asked for the divorce, it paralyzed me until I remembered who we were. And now I have to remember who I am. Own who I am. My husband cheated on me. I always thought that was a deal breaker, it's not. Turns out I'm a fuckin' doormat for those big Canadian boots. Turns out I wear desperation as easily as a tailored suit.

I figure I better stay here in the chapel and listen to the rest of the tape. My fingers don't even shake when I push play again.

**...When she didn't show up the next Monday....that's kinda how it went, she would just show up at my place. I knew that when she didn't show that it was over again. And even though I knew what the deal was from the jump, it kind of fucked me up again, just a little. Ya got that look on your face again don'tcha Ben. I knew that if she ever came to me like that again I'd give her what she wanted, do whatever she wanted. I think it took the very last of whatever I had left to get out of Chicago when I did. Sure the weather and I weren't buddies but I had to get the hell away from the Stella. What you did....what happened between us this time...you erased what she did to me. Thank you Ben. It's been greatness. You're greatness. Be happy. I'm glad one of us got exactly what he wanted. I'll catch ya on the other side Benton Fraser.

I snap off the recorder. When you make a decision about one thing it's amazing how easy certain other things get. If adultery wasn't a deal breaker, then the number of times can't matter either. When Stan said "this time", I didn't even flinch at the implication.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It may be over for good.

I wish that I loved him less. If I loved him less, I could walk out of this hospital right now. I could be anywhere but Arizona. I could be in the airport lounge waiting for a flight to get me out of this hell. I could be in a bar trying to pick someone up to ease this pain. Instead, I'm watching him struggle back to consciousness. Instead, I'm worried about him.

I've been doing a lot of talking and arranging. The doctor expressed some concern at Benny's reaction and wants to have a social worker or a psychiatrist to evaluate him before he checks out. And I talked and talked explaining jet lag and the sudden shock and the lack of sleep. And the fact that he and Kowalski were professional partners. I've learned pretty well from my husband how to talk someone into submission. As long as Benny is cooperative, non-violent they'll let him go.

The hand that I can see is beginning to twitch. In a few minutes I'll be face to face with the man who betrayed me. The man I don't think that I can ever touch again. And I don't have any kind of plan.

There's a moan from the bed. Not of pain, just of awareness. One of the by-products of marriage I guess, you recognize the subtle differences in your spouse's moans. The next moan is my name and instinct makes a plan for me. It reacts to the fear in his voice.

"Ray."

"Yeah." I'm up and sitting on the bed. I grasp his hand in mine and with my other hand smooth his hair. I allow myself to look into his eyes and I see that although he's conscious it was a real fight. A man with less will would probably still be out cold. I fight just to stay afloat.

His eyes flutter closed for a minute then open. He's determined. By the way that his pupils are dilated it's apparent he's still under the influence but, he's with me. My hand keeps smoothing his hair. I can barely think coherently, but I've got to get him on the same page. The things we have to deal with are family things. Family business. And family business can't be handled with the interference of shrinks. In Arizona. We have to get out of Arizona.

"Benton, I need you to listen to me very carefully." I think the first and last time I called him Benton was when we got married. But it does what I want it to. He knows it's serious. Those blues are completely focused on me.

"Benton, something bad has happened. You already know what it is but you didn't take it so well the first go round. The doctor's have given you something to take the edge off. I'm going to tell you again and you've got to keep it together. If you have another episode like the one before they shot you up, you're gonna be in a padded room."

He squeezes my hand. "Stanley Kowalski killed himself this morning." The squeeze turns into a bone crushing grip. I grit my teeth and don't say anything. I just keep stroking his hair. His eyes flutter closed for a moment and I think he's about to cry. I don't know how I'll handle that. Tears for Kowalski. For his lover. I feel a sourness in the pit of my stomach and if he weren't holding my hand so tightly I think that I would be in the hallway dry heaving.

But when he opens his eyes again, he's staring at me intently and dry eyed. I think we're at least in the same chapter. "The doctor will want to talk to you. You can't give them any reason to keep you here. Do you understand Benton? Now would be a good time for the Mountie mask." A slight nod. He hates it when I invoke the Mountie mask. He always argues that there was never any such thing. Just a 'necessary professional reserve.' But this time he doesn't argue.

It takes another forty -five minutes or so for him to fully come out of the sedative. The nurse pokes, prods and take his vitals. Once that's done the psychiatrist shows up. He asks Fraser if he wants me to stay and he nods yes. And then the performance begins.

It was a thing of beauty. The only near glitch was toward the end. The shrink asked Benny if he wanted to kill himself. I almost stood up and shouted that's enough. Benny can do omission, but he can't tell an outright lie to a direct question. And that was something that had never occurred to me. His lover was dead, maybe he wanted to be too. I couldn't keep my mouth shut.

"What kind of bullshit question is that?"

"Mr. Vecchio, please."

Benny's eyes shifted to mine briefly. Then he looked the doctor right in the eye.

"Ray, it's alright. No, I have neither the intention nor the desire to take my own life."

The shrink eyed both of us, then produced a card out of his pocket. "Mr. Fraser if you should need to speak to someone during your time in Arizona, here is a number you can call."

I fought the urge to snatch the card.

Another hour and we were in the hospital parking structure sitting in the rental. The interior was so hot I felt I was melting. I rolled down the windows to let some of the hot air escape before reaching to turn on the ignition. Fraser put his hand over mine and stopped it.

"What happened Ray?" Right same chapter, not necessarily same page.

"Carbon Monoxide poisoning. He did it in the GTO, in his parent's garage with a hose."

"How...How did you know? Did he call you?"

"I went to see him this morning. I wanted to hear from the horse's mouth what was going on."

"Ah. Ah. I need to ....I would like to go to the Kowalski's Ray."

"I don't know if that's such a good idea."

"I behaved very badly this morning. I would like to pay my respects to his parents before the sun goes down." You behaved pretty badly last night I think but don't say it out loud. And I'd like to go to the airport and get the hell out of this desert.

We pull up to the house and the garage is still open. Everything looks the same as I saw it this morning. I can see the glass glittering on the ground where I broke the window. My husband is out of the car before I've fully parked. His long legs quickly cut the distance between our rental and the Kowalski garage.

I watch as he circles the GTO. Crunching across the glass, he crouches and his eye catches the hose I kicked under the work bench. He fishes it out and turns it over and over in his hand. He sniffs it but I know there's no smell. For a minute I think that he's going to taste it. But he stands and puts the hose on top of the workbench. He looks at me and I can't read the look in his eyes.

"His parents should not have to clean this mess." And he reaches for a broom and starts to sweep the glass. I think that a lover shouldn't have to either. Then it hits me, it's not that, he's being a good partner. Taking care of his partner's family. The thing about deciding that something doesn't matter is that you have to keep deciding. Each minute, each hour.

I can't watch him do this so I try to focus on what I can do. I let the Kowalski's know that we're here. Let them know what Fraser's doing in the garage. They meet that news with a tight lipped acceptance. I also remind them not to say anything about the tape.

********************

I finally make it to the airport. Unfortunately, it's only to pick up Frannie. Welsh and I think Huey are coming later tonight. The funeral is day after tomorrow. I haven't seen much of my husband in the last day and a half. He's been spending most of his time with the Kowalski's. I think he's trying to make up for not being available the first eight hours after they lost their son. I think that I can count the number of words he's said to me since he cleaned up the garage on one hand. The Mountie mask is still firmly in place and it scares me. I wished I loved him less so that it wouldn't matter.

It's weird being around Frannie. It's been five years plus how every many months and days since Benny and I celebrated our fifth anniversary. The day after the night Benny asked me not to leave him, we told Frannie. We figured she would be the test. Depending on how she took it...and it was also a little chicken shit because we figured she would blab to the rest of the family and we wouldn't have to face Ma. She rolled her eyes at the both of us and said.

"It's about freakin' time."

"What does that mean?"

"It means it took you two long enough. It means I'm not surprised. " Benny was blushing. I was just confused.

"Then why -" and I pointed. Cause she was dressed how she was usually dressed, short and tight.

"Why are you always all over Benny. I'm sure that didn't change while I was gone. Benny was still blushing up a storm. And then Frannie was blushing too.

"Well you know, if you weren't gonna do anything about it. I mean he ...you can't blame a girl for trying." She finally said. With my little sister solidly in our corner, it made it easier to tell the rest of the family.

Frannie and I even joked about double dating. It was great ....until I asked Benny to marry me. Her reactions were like night and day. When we announced that we were engaged at Sunday dinner, Frannie got up and left the dining room. I thought it was one of those girl things where she left because she was so overcome with happiness and was gonna start bawling like a baby. I figured eventually we would sit down together and she would help me plan the wedding. That night when she left the table, she left the house and she didn't speak to either Benny or me unless she absolutely had to. She rarely had to. It stunned me. I had some input from Ma and Benny but mostly I planned the wedding by myself.

My guess about what happened is that as long as we were just dating there was the chance that we would break up. As long as it was only dating Benny was taken, but not * taken taken *. But marriage.....well my sister knows me, us. Marriage definitely meant game over. She knew that. Same gender marriage had only been legal for a short time at that point and I guess maybe she hadn't really considered that as a possibility for me and Benny since it hadn't been when we first met.

I was more upset than I thought I'd be that she wasn't coming to the wedding. I had some trouble sleeping, eating. I know that Ma spoke to her about coming because she told me that she would. I asked her not too. I think that Benny said something to her. He never mentioned it but she showed up at the ceremony. And I was happier than I thought I could be given the way that she treated our engagement. And in the years since we have seen each other at other family gatherings and it's always civil, but never warm.

Her eyes are a little red like maybe she's been crying on the plane or hasn't had much sleep and well I know that drill. And it's not exactly like the last five years disappear when I see my sister but I open my arms to her and she doesn't hesitate to step inside.

I got her a junior suite one floor below us, but she's in our room right now. Benny, of course, is not here. Frannie sits on the edge of the bed as I unzip one of the two garment bags she brought. I didn't ask her which was which so I startle just a little when I see the serge. I shouldn't. I asked her to bring it. I told her where she could find Benny's uniform as well as my dark blue suit. I also had her bring a regular suit for Benny in case he didn't want to wear the serge. I figured he would, but I wanted him to have options. Of course that was before I listened to the tape.

"Ray?"

I guess I'm still staring at Benny's uniform.

"Ray, what's wrong?"

"Oh God, Frannie," I whisper. And just like that my knees go. And I'm on my ass. My sister kneels beside me. "What is it? Did something else happen? Where's Benton?"

"I...."

She clutches my arm. "Where the hell is Benton?"

"I'm losing him." For moment she just looks at me. And I see it in her eyes. Son of a bitch. She doesn't speak to either of us, not me, not Mr. Perfect for five goddamn years and I can see it right there in her eyes. She's getting ready to ask me what I did. What I've done to Benton. She cuts us both off, but her instinct *still * is to take his side. And I want her to. I want her to ask me what I did to the perfect Mountie so that I can tell her the truth.

I don't know if she reads something in my expression or if it dawns on her that she doesn't know us as married people, doesn't know anything about our relationship, but she hugs me. Maybe Ma had another talk with her before she left. Ma wanted to come, but all of this would have been too much for her. She called Stan's mother and talked to her for a long time yesterday. Maybe losing her fake brother makes her appreciate the one that's still here.

We sit on the floor for a while like that. "If I can just get us back to Chicago, I think it'll be fine." I tell her. She nods quietly. I can tell that she wants to ask questions but she doesn't and I appreciate that.

*****************************

It has got to be the hottest day of the year. I mean it's been hot the entire time we've been here, but today is the worst one. I'm sweating like a pig in my suit. There's probably an anti-cop joke in there somewhere. I can feel sweat running down my back, down my legs. Tears stream down Frannie's face. She clutches my hand tightly. I'm glad she's representing the family. Benny, who stands at attention, looking like an action figure in the serge, is on my right. There are a few fine beads of sweat on his forehead but other than that he looks none the worse for wear. He's staring at the coffin, but I can see that his eyes are unfocused. He's dazed, dry-eyed It dawns on me that he might be in shock. Welsh and Huey are standing just behind us. Stanley left specific instructions. Stella Kowalski, the person who was a major player in all this misery, is conspicuously absent. I wonder if Kowalski left instructions about that. The graveside service is short. He requested that there be no church service. No flowery words at the graveside. Just the ashes to ashes and on to the post funeral "party". His words. His mother and father throw the first handful of dirt, on the coffin. Then Stanley's brother. Then we each file by and do the same. When it's Benny's turn, I brace myself. He hasn't cried or expressed any real emotion since his collapse at the hospital. All duty and efficiency. Benny throws dirt on the coffin without looking.

Back at the Kowalski's, Mrs. Kowalski pulls me aside to tell me that Benny has been askin' if Stan left anything like a note. She told me it was one thing for them not to bring it up, it was another thing for them to lie to him outright.

"Raymond, I understand that you're trying to look out for your husband, but my son wanted his partner, his friend to have that tape. Unless there's something on the tape that will hurt him...and I know my son. He wouldn't do that to Ben. If he asks us again, we won't lie to him. We'll tell him that he should talk to you."

Of course the irony is, isn't it that he has hurt Benny and his own family by killing himself. But I'm not gonna get any points for saying that out loud.

I go looking for Benny and find him about twenty minutes later in Kowalski's apartment. Someone has already begun packing up Kowalski's things. It's designed kind of like a loft. Everything in the one room. So I can't help but noticed the bed. The sheets are rumpled maybe still from Stan's last night. I have to take a minute to breathe and remind myself that even though my stomach is trying to revolt on me, what my husband did with his partner doesn't matter. I turn so that the bed is no longer in my field of vision. Benny hasn't said anything to me. He's sitting at what I'm sure passed for the dining room table, staring at his hands. There's a stack of letters on the table. I recognize my husband's handwriting on the outside of the envelopes. And I never considered, never thought 'til now years worth of letters I didn't know anything about. Five years of love letters, maybe and the trips out of town, how many were really to Arizona. I stare at him unable to speak for several minutes. And I chant over and over in my head, it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter.

Eventually I find my voice. "Benny I need you to come back to the hotel with me now."

"I can't Ray, I have to...."

"You have to come back to the room. I need to talk to you. There isn't anything else for you to do here."

"I told Stan's mother that I would pack his clothes for Goodwill."

"Stan's mom knows that I need you to come back to our room. You can come back here afterwards but I need to talk you." We ride in silence back to the hotel. Welsh agreed to bring Frannie back with him.

Once in the room I don't spend any time leading in. "I found this in an envelope in Stan's car. The envelope had your name on it." I hand Benny the tape. He looks at it, then he looks at me. If this weren't so serious the confusion on his face would be funny.

"I don't understand." "I know. Listen to the tape. My mini cassette player is on the night table. I'm gonna be in the bar."

An hour passes. I'm not in the bar. I knew it was a mistake as soon as I walked in. I could feel that old scary feeling. The feeling I would sometimes get in Vegas when I was overwhelmed and wanted a drink to sort of even myself out. I know right now, like I knew in Vegas, that it wouldn't stop at one cause I didn't want to get even I wanted to get obliterated. I wanted to get out. I end up in the parking lot in front of the hotel making some phone calls. That's where Benny finds me.

He's changed out of the serge and is wearing jeans and an ocean colored henley that I bought him last Christmas. I bought it of course because it brings out my favorite feature. Eyes that are so shuttered now. You would be hard pressed to say what color they really are. And I brace myself again because for the last hour I've been trying to distract myself. I wasn't ready for him to know that I know. I'm not ready to have those kinds of conversations with him. I've forgiven him. Stan Kowalski is dead and so I'm absolutely sure that it won't happen again. End of story.

"I've taken the liberty of making arrangements for us to fly back to Chicago tomorrow night. If I understood correctly Frannie is leaving at that time so we will all be on the same flight."

I'm stunned. It's not what I was expecting but it's what I wanted. He mistakes my lack of immediate response. His thumb rubs over his eyebrow. "Unless it is necessary for you to return to Los Angeles."

"No, Benny it's not necessary."

Because for the last hour I have been on the phone with my officer and various other people up and down the command chain trying to get the Los Angeles problem wrapped up. I issued the order to my officer. I didn't want to do it over the phone, but I didn't have much of a choice. She was ordered to return to Chicago immediately. I was honest with her. I would stand by her while her conduct was investigated, but I couldn't come back to Los Angeles because of family business. I was going to Chicago where I belonged. The west hasn't been good to me.

"I...uh." His thumb flicks over his eyebrow again. The second time in five minutes. "I would like to keep my promise to his mother." His voice kind of trails off and it sounds like he's asking me for permission. I toss him the keys to the rental. He snags them in the air. "Thank you," he says quietly.

"You're welcome."

*********************************

We've been back in Chicago for thirty days. Yeah, I've been counting the days, the hours, the minutes. It's like it was between my husband and me, like it was when he asked me for the divorce. The goddamn Mountie mask is still firmly in place. We haven't had a conversation about anything significant since we got back. It's all work and sleep, work and sleep. The kids have been over almost every weekend since we got back and we do the best we can at putting on the happily married front. They're just happy that we're here and that they can come to the house. The grownups of the family can tell that we're a little off, but since they don't know any of what's happened between us they assume it's just grieving. And it is I guess, but for me it's not about Kowalski. I want my husband back but I don't know how to make that happen. The only bright spot I guess is that Frannie has actually come over to the house a couple of times with the kids. I try not to dwell on the fact that I'm getting my sister back just as my marriage is crashing and burning.

We're still sharing a bed, but we barely touch. He sleeps beside me the way he use to stand guard at the consulate, rigid, in his own tiny box of space, with not even a twitch of movement I don't know how to do this anymore. Something's gotta give and I think it'll be me.

The phone rings in the living room and it takes me a minute to identify the sound. The family usually calls on the non emergency cell phone. Once I identify the sound, I pick up the receiver. I glance at my watch, another late night for Fraser.

"Hello."

"Lt. Vecchio?" No one addresses me by that title.

"Yeah, this is Lt. Vecchio."

"Hello, Lieutenant. This is Mary Evans at Chicago Memorial. Your husband was brought in here a little while ago. He's okay. He's fine, but he was involved in a car accident. Dr. Gersh is keeping him overnight for observation."

"Did my husband ask you to call me?" There is a slight hesitation on the other end of the line. It never occurred to Mary that he might not want me there. Benny and I have been in the hospital so many times over the years that we're pretty well known by the staff, especially the emergency room staff. I'm sure she looked around saw him, saw that his other half wasn't there and just picked up the phone on reflex.

"I...is there a reason that I shouldn't have called." "No, Mary it's fine. Everything is fine. I'll be there as soon as I can."

By the time I get to the hospital. He's already in a room. I find out from Doctor Gersh that he has a concussion and his ribs are bruised. Given the number of head injuries he's had over the years, the Doctor decided to keep him in the hospital overnight instead of letting him come home. I also find out from the Doctor that it was a single car accident. Just Benny and a tree. I'm surprised. I figured that Benny got rear-ended. He drives like everyone's grandma. And he has been flipped off more times than I can count.

When I get in the room he's sitting in a chair staring out of the window. He's paler than usual, there's a bandage on the side of his head. The doctor also mentioned that they taped his ribs. He looks quickly at me and then away. I am more relieved than I can say that he's okay. Apparently a lot more than I can say.

"I wish I felt less for you." I say. It's just out there. I'm pretty sure I meant to say how are you feeling. And his answering voice is low, ragged, exhausted.

"As little as you felt for me when you went to Las Vegas?" "We weren't even together then."

This time he looks at me without turning away. "Ray, you and I both know that even then we were more than friends. Even if we couldn't name it. The current ran deep between us and you left me." There is nothing really accusatory in his tone, just a sort of statement of fact in that annoying way he has.

I take a step closer to him. "If I had loved you less then I woulda stayed. I needed to go to fuckin' Vegas to breathe. And when I got there I realized I made a mistake but I was stuck. I couldn't come back. And I can't believe we're talking about Vegas. We weren't married then. We're married now Benny, nearly six goddamned years and you were having an affair. You cheated on me." And now he's as pale as the dead and he looks like I punched him.

"Me and the desert got nothing on you." I growl.

"I thought you left me."

I'm trying to keep it together, but he's stuck five years ago. I wonder if this is some type of amnesia the doctor neglected to mention. He hasn't spoken to me in almost thirty damn days, not really and this is the shit he has on his mind. My hands starts to clench and I want to punch him in the face. Concussion or no concussion I want to punch him in that fuckin' amazing mouth, the mouth that he probably frenched Stanley Kowalski with. I want to punch him hard in that mouth and watch him bleed. I want to see him bleed bad and this is so much worse than that night on the train platform. I just wanted to stop him. I was proud of being man enough to step up to the task.

But now, I just want the blood to run...I just want to hurt him. And I know if I do I won't be as sorry as I should be. I guess in this particular minute it does matter what he did with Kowalski and I can't forgive. I turn my back to him because maybe if I don't look at him...

"Please don't leave." I hear the unspoken "me"

I know that people say that they've been so angry that they see red. And I have been really angry in my life but nothing like this. Despite all the crimes of passion I've worked in my career, for the first time I really, truly understand seeing red. I get a flash that blinds me and sets the inside of my head on fire. This annoying son of a bitch couldn't make me feel like this if he were dead. I press my palms as hard as I can into the wall, trying to release the pressure in my head through my hands.

Underneath this homicidal anger, I can feel the fear creeping in that if I can't get this under control I'm gonna go from seeing red to spilling red. I yank the door open and start running. My shoes slip a little on the carpet but I don't let that stop me.

I get some strange looks from the staff, but all I can think about is distance and I keep running. Distance will put a stop to this fire in my head. I don't stop running until I get to the car. Then I don't stop driving until I realize that Dief is probably in the house crossing his back legs. This is the first night he's been with us in a while and I forgot to unlock the doggy door. He was looking after Ma while we were in hell and when we got back it took him a only a couple of days to get a read on what was going on between Benny and me. He tried to talk to me. I guess he probably tried to talk to Benny, then he stopped talking to either one of us. The wolf asked to go back to Ma's. He was only with us tonight because Ma was visiting one of her sisters. And she's allergic to animal hair.

I don't know what the next level of punishment is after a wolf stops speaking to you but the glare he gives me when I let him out says that I'm there. I do explain what happened to Benny and he just gives me this frown and walks away. I thought about buying a bottle of something on the way home but I gotta think through this. Cause there have gotta be other options besides a. killing my husband, b. staying so drunk that I don't have the will to. I think this is the first time since I've known him that I haven't stayed in the hospital with him when he had to stay overnight.

I stretch out on the couch and think about things I don't want to think about. Not so much about Kowalski, but about how a Canadian government issued car that's in excellent condition, driven by a man who observes every posted traffic regulation and doesn't do any drugs or drink alcohol could end up wrapped round a tree without interference from another car. I know what I've learned on the job about these kinds of accidents. Oh God, this can't be that kind of accident. And then I am up, looking in my weapons safe for the divorce papers that I never signed.

**********************************************

I hadn't formed any clear intent to pick him up from the hospital. After I found the divorce papers, I found a Cabernet that was given to us as a housewarming present. I drank straight from the bottle and wasn't feeling much of anything when I finally nodded off. My internal clock usually wakes me much later but this morning it woke me at just the right time to get dressed and get to the hospital. So that's what I did.

I let the nurses know I'm here and give them a small duffle with a change of clothes for Benny. I didn't tell him I was coming and I figure if he doesn't want to come with me, he'll tell the nurse when she gives him the clothes. I step into the men's room and surprise myself. I just grabbed a suit and put it on. At least that's what I thought. As I stare in the mirror, I realize that the suit I'm wearing was an anniversary present from Benny. Our first anniversary. We'd gone to buy a suit for Frankie, Jr. I guess Benny saw this one. It's a kind of forest green, double breasted lightweight wool, it's not Armani but it's a fine piece of clothing. When he gave it to me he said that night after we went shopping for our nephew, he had a dream about me wearing the suit. Of course in the dream he was getting me out of the suit, but still...that night after we went to dinner he got to make the dream come true.

This is definitely power dressing or a peace offering. I splash some water on my face, take a minute to breathe, to remind myself to stay calm no matter what. To remember what matters.

When I enter his room he's standing beside the chair, staring out of the window. He's changed into the clothes I gave the nurse. I don't get any closer to him then just inside the closed door. He turns to look at me but he's doing what they teach you in those public speaking classes. He's really looking just over my shoulder at the wall.

"Tell me what happened with the car, Benny." He does. He tells me the facts, the facts the way I could read them in the insurance report. Man thinks he sees something in the road, swerves to avoid it, hits tree. The facts, but not the truth. He's not telling me the truth. And I just stare at him for a few minutes, trying to get my thoughts together, while he looks over my shoulder.

"Benton," he doesn't look at me. "I understand that you might want out of this marriage, but please don't put me in the position of having to tell our nephew that his favorite uncle is dead." I mean it to sound forceful and commanding. Instead my voice sounds like a broken thing.

But now he's looking right at me. Without the mask. And the clear blue eyes I use to get lost in are black holes. And the panic on his face is like a drowning man who knows that the rescue isn't coming. Then his eyes are suddenly gone, covered by his hands as he drops into the chair. His shoulders begin to shake and then he's crying. I go to him immediately and stroke my hands through his hair. This is my favorite kind of silk, better than silk ties or silk shirts, better than silk boxers. I close my eyes for a minute and moments from our honeymoon flash across the screen of my eyelids. That's when I first learned how much he liked this. Just my fingers in his hair. Yeah we screwed like bunnies on the honeymoon, but the best times of those two weeks was when it was just me holding him. Doing this by the campfire, by the pool.

It's been a long time since I touched him intimately. And this may be the last time. There are more things I need to say to him before we leave this room. Whether it goes easy or hard it's up to him. I just want a few minutes of the way it use to be, with the person I thought I would spend the rest of my life. But we can't go back, the shuddering of his body beneath my hand pulls me out of the memory.

"God, Benny you're the love of my life." And my voice is still not working right.

He's still crying but I hear him say. "As you are mine." My fingers keep threading though his hair. "We're still in the filing period for the divorce papers." His hand tightens in the fabric of my pant leg.

"I signed the papers last night. They're in my pocket." I can feel him trembling under my hand. "I can't do this anymore Benny. Not like this." I crouch in front of him, clasping both his hands in mine.

"We're not even on the roof baby. We're bleeding on the sidewalk."

There's a light knock on the door and it opens. "Lt. Vecchio?" I don't bother to turn around. I can imagine what we must look like. "We need about fifteen minutes." It's not gonna take long for it to get around the hospital that something's not right with the Lieutenant and the Mountie.

After the door closes, "I don't know what to do," he whispers. "You have to start telling the truth, caro."

He looks at me. A little of the darkness recedes from his eyes. "I love you." He says as he presses his lips to mine. And that is a fact, but it's only half of the truth.

I figured it might go down like this and I'm prepared. It would be so easy to open to him, to let this be the answer but I pull away. My eyes hold his and I brush my thumb along his cheek. It's hard for me to see all of that pain. And suddenly I wish I loved him more or enough to take it away. I make a stab at telling the truth, a truth anyway.

"Last night when I was here, when we were fighting. I wanted to hurt you....physically. I think for a couple of seconds there I wanted you dead. I really think I wanted you dead. For a man with access to lots of guns that's no good Benny. I'm scared that the feeling will come back. I'm scared that it might come back when I'm armed and in a split second everything would be over. " The rest I don't say out loud, but it's starting to nag at me that maybe when he was running for Victoria, maybe that was really the first time I saw red.

"I made a mistake in Arizona, about the shrink. With our assignments we can't afford to have that kind of thing in our jackets. That was my thinking. This is family business. But we ...we can't stop the bleeding on our own."

He's watching me closely waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Sister Mary Agnes does counseling at the church. She's a licensed psychologist, and she's got no ties to law enforcement. Anything we say to her is privileged and confidential like a confession bound by the laws of God, not man. It's better than a regular head shrinker. I know you have other truths baby, if you can't say them to me maybe you can say them to her."

"Ray, I've done....I can't."

I kiss him, the next words I have to say are hard. I never imagined that I would ever say them. "I brought the divorce papers with me because it's come down to this Benny. I've talked to Sister Mary Agnes and she can see us this morning. If you don't come with me, I'm gonna go to the courthouse and file the papers."

"You're leaving me." There is a flat resignation in his voice. He doesn't seem to get the big picture.

"I'm not....We're not going to make it like this baby. We...Christ, I really wanted to hurt you. That's not the kind of marriage you want is it?"

He presses his hand against the lapel of my suit. "This is my favorite suit. It makes your eyes so luminous, so exquisite. So...when I look into your eyes, it anchors me and ...I have not been able, that is to say I can't ... I. Please don't leave me."

I can feel pieces of my heart shredding. I lean up and press my lips to his forehead, then pull him gently into my arms. "I promised `til death, but we're in sickness right now baby. It's not the sickness I expected, you know. I was thinkin' someday when you were old and gray I'd have to change a bed pan or give you a sponge bath or something. But this.... if something doesn't change, I don't think I'll get to see you old and gray."

*************************************

I walked out of the meeting with Sister Mary Agnes. Ran out actually, I guess is the truth. Not because of Kowalski. Benny finally said it, said the words. "I slept with Stan." And because I already knew that part it wasn't a shock. I was able to hear it without reacting. It was the other stuff. The other things he said. He wasn't having an affair with Kowalski. At least not what most people would call an affair. Not what I had in my head after I heard the tape. Every last one of his tells put in an appearance. He wouldn't make eye contact with either me or the Sister. He stared at his hands, which started to shake when he explained about the first time Stan touched him. I'd been in Vegas sixty days. It wasn't so much what he said I guess, even though that was horrible. It was the way that he said it. The shame in his voice. As I stand here on the steps of the church, like a coward, watching the traffic, that's what's hardest to deal with. His shame is so deep.

Benny's "relationship" with Stanley consisted mostly of the two of them jacking each other off or sucking each other off in Stan's car, a few times in alleys, generally during stakeouts. They'd both been left by people they loved. Neither of them understood why. Grieving and bleeding, that was the best they could do.

According to Benny, they never went to either of their places, never shared a bed until Arizona, never even talked about what they did together, ever. And when I came back they just stopped. Benny said that while it was happening it was like what he imagined drug euphoria to be. During the act it felt great, but afterwards.....

In Arizona he could feel that Stan was slipping away. Their history made Benny think that he could save Stanley by touching him, by sleeping with him. "I don't know how to keep people from leaving me." Benny said at the end. And talk about crappy timing. That's when I ran out of the office. I should have tried harder to reach him while I was in Nevada. Benny is sharp. I could have come up with something only he would figure out. He figured out the postcard. I should never have gone to Vegas in the first place.

And a.v., I was so self-involved. I was just happy that he wanted to be with me. I never bothered to ask him if he had been with anyone while I was gone. I didn't really ask about anything in the time I was away. I should have. Then we might not be here. Our marriage might not be falling apart. Arizona might have happened differently. My husband wouldn't be running his car into trees. The divorce papers are burning a hole in my pocket. Maybe I'm the worst thing to happen to him. Maybe I should grow a pair and do what needs doing.

"Ray?" Sister Mary Agnes is standing behind me. I didn't even hear the door open.

"Yes, Sister." I can't look at her. I don't want to see the coward I am reflected in her eyes. "Are you coming back inside?"

"I've messed him up. I'm the worst thing that's ever happened to him."

"He doesn't think so."

"Yeah he's like that."

"He's just told you the worst thing he's ever done. And you're standing out here watching cars drive by. This was your idea, you brought him here. What exactly do you want Ray?"

In the Sister's office, Benny is huddled in the corner of the couch twisting his wedding band. When I open the door he doesn't look up. He's so pale. Probably exhausted, it's been a long day.

I reach into my jacket and pull out the divorce papers. I tear them in half, then into smaller and smaller pieces which I toss into the Sister's garbage can.

"I should have taken better care of your heart. All those years ago... I won't make that mistake again." I move so that I'm standing in front of him, then I crouch down cause he's still not looking at me. His hand continues to worry his wedding band. My hand slides over his to stop the movement. "Look at me Benny."

He doesn't. "Please caro." Finally, he lifts his chin and tries to do the staring over my shoulder thing. "Look at me." His eyes drift down. And I try to put whatever he needs to see in my eyes. I keep myself from flinching at the desolation in his. He reaches out and trails his fingers across my cheek bone.

"I promise you I will never make that mistake again, caro." His mouth works like he's going to say something but instead the tears come. I get up on the sofa beside him and pull his head down to my chest. My fingers thread through his hair as I whisper over and over "I love you."

It's been four weeks now. And it's been a lot better than the previous four weeks. I guess almost any improvement would be. I haven't had any alcohol in the last month. It's not like I was a candidate for Betty Ford, but I was scaring myself. There are still some dark days. For both of us. Sometimes I am resentful that I have to go to counseling. A.V. I passed the psych eval with flying colors, so it's a little ridiculous that now I'm on a couch. Sometimes Benny gets overwhelmed and has to spend the night away from me. Usually he takes Dief and bunks in at the consulate.

I still have a lot of hope that we won't be a statistic, that I won't be a two time loser. I still have a lot of hope that we will have that second honeymoon afterall.

fin

↑


End file.
